The Spider
by Psionic108
Summary: After losing his remaining family in the Chitauri incident, Peter Parker has no one left to guide him,and what's more,he has this spider powers that only he knows about and has started seeing weird things like, is that a cyclops and a kid fighting three giants with..flaming dodgeballs? This story is based in MCU in year 2014 before The Winter Soldier [Peter X Clarisse]Peter X Multi
1. 1 The Meeting

**This disclaimer applies to all the chapters here on. I do not own Spider-Man or any other characters' present in this story. They all belong to their respective owners.**

 **Updated (Rewritten version) on 06-Feb-2016**

 **Way better than the previous version in my honest opinion.**

 **A/N- I deleted the second chapter because it is being rewritten. Sorry to all.**

* * *

The sun was nearing the horizon, casting a red hue on the sky. A few more minutes and the sun would have officially set. Peter Parker was sitting cross legged in front of a pair of gravestones, picking grass and reminiscing about the old times. Times when the people who brought him up were still alive.

He couldn't believe that it had been almost two years since death had rained down from the sky in Manhattan. It had been almost two years since his Aunt and Uncle died in the 'incident,' as people liked to call it. It had been almost two years since he got this…gift?

He still remembered it clear as the day it had happened.

It was the day he had been waiting for ever since they announced this at school, a trip to Empire State U. The place where magic happened, or more realistically, science.

His aunt and uncle had gone to Manhattan to show their friends the wonders of New York City. He'd grabbed his camera and went outside to wait for the bus. It seemed that the bus was a bit late today, or rather, he was early.

At ESU, Peter, along with his longtime friend Gwen, was listening to Dr. Curtis Connors talk about cross species genetics research, and how they had bred creatures who were stronger, faster, and better than their predecessors. He was speaking of how if these experiments succeeded, the human trials could change the world of genetics and the world all the same.

On the ceiling above, a large, black, genetically altered spider crawled, right above Peter. How it had escaped, no one knew. But as it dropped onto Pete's neck, it didn't particularly matter. It all happened in an instant, pain shot through Peter's neck and he went rigid, his eyes large. Gwen looked at him curiously, and suddenly he fell down, convulsing. The spider managed to scurry away. The spider bit another girl, unnoticed, but that was a story for another time.

Gwen cried out for help, and then it was a blur of images and sounds. The last thing he saw was Gwen's face as he was loaded into an ambulance.

That's how he remembered it. He was unconscious for forty-eight hours, and when he woke up, he was told that his Aunt and Uncle had perished in the Chitauri alien invasion. Just like that, the happy life he had crumbled to dust.

Their house in Queens was sold by the bank to cover the mortgage debt. He was sent to an orphanage to live, as he had no surviving relatives. He was still thirteen at the time of the incident. He couldn't believe how quickly two years had passed.

After being discharged from the hospital, Peter had started noticing a few things different about him, like he no longer needed his glasses to see, and despite his inactivity at the hospital, he had, for the first time in his life, gained a muscular physique, something like that of a gymnast's. Sometime later, he started doing impossible feats. He could cling to a wall like a spider and lift things several times heavier than him.

He was not fully sure but he deduced that this all was due to that spider bite.

The sun had gone down and stars had come out, he had been sitting there for a long time and it was time to go or lest he break curfew.

Standing up, Peter started moving towards the exit. As he was leaving, a man nodded to him. He was African American, and very tall and muscular. He was standing in front of a grave engraved with the name _Reva Connors._

Peter exited the graveyard, walking towards his home. Or at least the place he was supposed to call home, Saint Agnes Orphanage.

Peter was one of the popular guys in the school He was one of the star basketball players, as well as the school topper. He was the perfect mix of brains and brawns.

This transition from being a bullied nerd to a popular kid took some getting use to for Peter, and he let it go to his head. Who wouldn't get cocky after gaining such powers? But somewhere within him, a good person still resided, a person who had been brought up with a good sense of right and wrong. Peter, who was in the gym room full of rowdy seventh graders playing dodgeball, was working on his pet project with his headphones blaring. He had been having fun the last two years with his powers, using his new passive abilities to gain popularity through sport and all, but last week he had witnessed an incident that had forced him to take action.

Peter was walking once late at night when his ears picked up the telltale noises of a mugging. Peter chose to ignore it. It wasn't his problem that some poor sod was about to be mugged, he had better things to do. But a part of him wanted to help, the part that his family had raised him to be.

The man was desperate now, screaming for help. _If he has money,_ Peter thought, _why not give it to him? I mean, isn't his life worth more than a few bills?_

"Please no!" the man cried. I don't have much, and this is for my grandson's hospital bills, he's all I have! Please!"

It was when the man said those words that Pete's conscience awoke.

"I've got no time for your ramblings old man, now fork over the money or I'll take it _the hard way!_ " The mugger shouted.

Peter pulled the hood of his jacket over his head as he crept into the alley and snuck up behind the mugger, clocking him in the head with enough force to knock him unconscious.

"Call the cops and maybe an ambulance," Peter said to the scared old man, "and next time don't walk around Hell's Kitchen at this time of night with that conspicuous briefcase."

"Th-Thank you!" the man managed to say.

Peter just walked away, later in life he would look back on this incident as the one that gave him a push towards the life of a vigilante. He helped this man because in him, he saw his Uncle Ben. His uncle's words came back to him. With great power, there must also come great responsibility. Those words ringed in his ears, as if a reminder from his uncle, a reminder of the ways he was brought up, a reminder of what he should be.

That incident made him realize that he was wasting his gifts for selfish reasons. In the school gym, Peter was working on gadget that he would be using for his nightly activities. It was a contraption that would shoot out a stream of shearing liquid that would solidify when in contact with air, this device would give him the ability to shoot webs, which would complement his spider related abilities.

Peter had a one eighty degree turn in attitude after the mugging incident. He had realized that he had let the power go to his head, and that had led to him alienating the people close to him. Because of what his new friends thought, he had stopped talking to Gwen. Their friendship sort of had a break up, with her telling him to get his head out of his ass.

Peter realized that he had become his own version of Flash Thompson. He started seeing his school world with new eyes, his friends pushing their weight around others, he was so disillusioned with his feats of glory that he failed to see the plight of people who were like his former self.

Peter looked up suddenly. His Spider Sense, which was sort of a sense that warned him of danger, was blaring at him, filling his head with an infernal ringing. Everything seemed to be happening in slow-motion. He noticed kids running for their life, banging on the doors, a large boy, and a flaming ball heading towards where Pete's head was. He quickly ducked down, and the ball passed overhead.

Quickly strapping on his just finished web-shooters, Peter quickly entered the fray. The gym was like a battle ground, mostly empty in the center except for three large, monstrous looking boys, one black haired kid, and a large boy. Peter did a double take. Did the big guy only have _one eye?_ The giants were attacking the other two boys with flaming dodgeballs and the big kid was doing his best to catch them. The flames didn't seem to bother him. Peter filed away all this strange information. In a world where his parental guardians could die in an _alien invasion,_ this was nothing to worry about. He would've tried to solve this peacefully, but he wasn't sure where to start. He doubted that the three kids would listen to him.

As he was about to test out his web shooters, the normal looking boy ran over to the entrance of the boys locker room. He ducked a fireball, and it crashed into the door. There was an explosion, and everything from locker doors to singed T-shirts and other nasty personal things rained all over the gym, knocking the kid flat on his back. The coach was reading his magazine without a care in the world.

The cyclops kid tossed two of the flaming dodgeballs back at two of the three giants, and they disintegrated into golden dust.

Peter raised an eyebrow. Okay, that was a little weird.

But the last bad guy, the one with tattoos, knocked the one eyed kid down with a ball and sent him crashing through the wall. He was about to attack the kid with a dodgeball when Peter made his move, he tapped his two middle fingers to his palm, and the shooters shot a strand of web that latched onto the giants raised hand. Peter pulled down hard, then he quickly shot several more webs at the prone body of the giant making him immobile. The tattooed giant struggled against the webbing fruitlessly. The web formula theoretically was stronger than steel.

Thankfully, no one except the boys who were being attacked noticed him doing this, rest others were all huddled in the locker room that was blasted open.

He went to look over at the cyclops kid who was getting up, who upon recognizing Peter, backed away. He thought that Peter was there to bully him. Peter sighed, and cursed his reputation.

Peter raised his empty hands to show that the kid had nothing to fear from him.

"Hey, are you alright?! I saw you take a hit from the ball."

"I-I'm fine, thanks for saving Percy." The cyclops kid said. Percy must be the black-haired kid. Tyson hung his head,, afraid to even look Peter in the eyes.

"I'm Peter Parker." He said introducing himself to the one eyed boy.

"I'm Tyson. You smell funny!" Tyson replied.

"Umm… Thanks?" Peter said, confused.

He didn't wait for Tyson's reply, because by now, some of the braver students had entered the gym again, and the headmaster, Mr. Bonsai, was banging on the gym door.

Peter helped Tyson up and they walked back to Percy. The giant was still squirming, and then he stopped with a look of surprise on his face as a bronze dagger appeared in the center of his gut, and then he too disintegrated. Peter was surprised, and just when he thought that he couldn't be baffled more, he saw a girl appear in front of him out of thin air.

She had blonde hair and stormy grey eyes, and a Yankees baseball cap in her pocket. She looked somewhat worn out, her chin was cut, there were twigs and dirt in her ponytail and slashes on her jeans that suspiciously looked like claw marks. She picked up the knife, then turned her attention to a kid emerging from the locker room.

"It's her! That's the girl!" The kid, who Peter recognized as his friend's younger brother, Matt, yelled. The girl stormed over to him, and delivered a wicked haymaker to his gut.

"And _that's_ for dissing Percy," she said.

Matt was a known school bully. Pete didn't like him much but still, he didn't deserve to be on the ground, lips puckered like a blowfish. "Whoa! Lay off him, young lady." Peter told her.

"What?" she said defensively. "He had it coming. And who are you calling young lady, kid?"

"Who do you think you are, anyway?!" Peter yelled.

"My name is Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena. But now that I've told you that, I'll have to kill you." Peter wasn't sure if she was joking or not.

"Hey, Annabeth, lay off him, alright? He just saved me and Tyson," Percy said.

"I like him!" Tyson said, grinning like a little kid.

Annabeth looked suddenly chastised. "Oh, gods, I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

"How'd you do that?" Percy asked, looking at what had been the giant.

Peter held up a wrist. The three-inch strip of metal was obvious. "That was thanks to these bad boys. I made them." He said before realizing that he might have potentially given away his future secret identity to these kids. "Don't tell anyone, though."

Annabeth rubbed her chin. "Hmm. Maybe Hephaestus..."

"I'm sorry, what?" Peter asked confused.

"The only way I see you could have done that is if you were related to a god."

"That doesn't help much," Peter said. "And what did you mean when you said you were a daughter of _Athena_?"

"I'll tell you later," Percy said. "Right now, I'd rather work on not getting expelled again." Peter looked over his shoulder to see Matt pointing them out to what seemed like the whole faculty.

"Put these on," Annabeth said, pulling a pair of jeans and an orange T-shirt out of her backpack and tossing them to Percy, who was still in his gym clothes. Meet me outside," Annabeth said. "And yes, you can bring the cyclops." She then put on the Yankees cap and disappeared.

"Whoa! How did she do that?!" Peter cried.

"No time! We've gotta get out of here!" Percy said as he pulled on the T-shirt. He then rummaged through a smoking pair of jeans that lay at his feet, and he finally found what he was looking for…. a pen?

He grabbed Peter's hand and they jumped out of the hole that Tyson had created when he crashed into the wall before the teachers could notice them.

In the street, it took a moment to find Annabeth. Peter stepped in the road, doing a one-eighty as he looked for the girl. She was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, Peter's Spider-Sense went off, and he whirled to see a huge fire truck screaming toward him, sirens blaring. The driver was honking the horns and turning the truck as fast as he could.

"Peter!" Percy cried, and Pete found himself suddenly being pushed to the side of the road by an invisible force. He crashed to the ground.

"Would it kill you to watch where you walk?" Annabeth said, reappearing as she pulled off her Yankees cap.

Peter rubbed the back of his head in shock. He'd need to train his Spider-Sense to be more observant.

Annabeth pulled him into an alleyway, and Percy and Tyson joined them.

"Mind telling me where you found _him,_ by the way?" she said pointing at Tyson in distaste.

"He's my friend." Percy said through gritted teeth, seemingly angry with her, "And he saved my life!"

"Let me guess-he's homeless?" she said.

Before Percy could say anything, Peter interjected, "I don't know what your problem with him is, but can't you leave him alone? I mean, sure, he isn't exactly normal what with that one eye in the middle of his face but who cares? And why does it matter that he is homeless anyways? He can hear you, you know." Annabeth reminded Pete of the bullies he'd called friends at school with the way she badmouthed Tyson.

"Yeah, Pete's right why does it mat-wait, what do you mean he only has one eye?" Percy asked, confused.

"Well, don't you see it? He has only one eye, complete with an eyebrow and all, I thought everyone knew," Peter said.

"Annabeth, what does he mean?" Percy, still confused.

"Percy, when was the last time you looked Tyson in the face? Like, _right_ in the face."

Percy frowned. "A… a while…." He turned to Tyson, and stared him in the face. "Whoa," he said, "You have one eye!"

"I told you," Peter said.

"C'mon, we're running out of time," Annabeth said. "Get in the car. We've got to get to camp."

"What car? You don't look old enough to drive," Peter said incredulously.

Annabeth just rolled her eyes and started jogging away. They followed her downtown, and they stopped at the corner of Thomas and Trimble. She then started rummaging around in her bag. "I swear I had one left," she said. Then she withdrew her hand. She was holding what looked like… a golden coin?

"Annabeth, New York cabs don't accept drachmas as fare." Percy said.

She paid him no heed and shouted something in another language, which Peter recognized as Greek. The coin dropped from her hand onto the street. Peter raised an eyebrow as the coin sunk through the asphalt.

After a moment, the street portion darkened and started bubbling like dark red ooze, and a taxi cab emerged. It was unlike other New York cabs. It wasn't yellow, it was a wispy grey, like it was made of smoke

.The front window rolled down and a shriveled old woman mumbled "Passage? Passage?"

Peter was starting to think that this day was some weird dream, and he would wake up any second.

The hag pointed at Tyson and said, "We don't take his kind."

"I'll tell you what," Annabeth said. "If you take him, I'll give you two more drachmas when we reach our destination."

The old woman turned and conversed with two more hags, only one of which had an eye.

"Yes!" The one in the middle cackled. "Yes, indeed!"

Annabeth pushed them into the back of the cab. Peter found himself being flattened against the far wall by Tyson's hulking form.

"Where do you wish to go?" The third hag, the one in the driver's seat, said.

"Half-blood hill," Annabeth said clearly.

All three of the hags cackled again as the cab accelerated far beyond the normal speed limit. And, Peter noticed with dismay, the driver wasn't the one with the eye.

* * *

Percy and Annabeth explained everything on their way. Peter just nodded along, hardly able to concentrate on all the freaky stuff that was supposedly fact while the hags in the front cackled and argued, breaking about every safety rule in the book while driving a hundred and twenty miles per hour. He was sort of in shock, but with everything odd going on, it seemed almost normal. And wasn't there a Norse God in the Avengers roster? So this could be possible too…right?

Argh! He was so confused, so Percy was son of the Sea God, Poseidon. Annabeth really was a daughter of the Goddess Athena. Did that mean that Tyson actually was a Cyclops?

"We're here!" One of the hags cried suddenly, a time later. They stopped in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere.

"Thank you," Annabeth said, giving them the promised extra payment and exiting the cab. Peter fell out in relief, glad to finally be out.

They walked up a hill, and suddenly Peter saw the camp. But he also saw, near a large, browned pine, several people whom he assumed were campers fighting against three metal bulls.

"Clarisse!" Percy cried, pulling out his pen as he rushed to help.

"Wait, Percy!" Annabeth called out, "Do you know what those things up there are? They are Colchis bulls made by Hephaestus himself! We'll need Medea's Sunscreen SPF 50,000 to face them, or we'll be burned to crisps."

"Medea's what?" Peter asked.

"Yaargh!" Tyson yelled as he charged. "Bad bulls! Bad bulls!"

"Tyson, wait!" Percy cried as Tyson passed him, running faster to catch up to his meter long stride.

Before anyone could stop him, Tyson barreled into one of the bulls. A burst of flame came from its gaping maw, enveloping the cyclops.

"NOOOO! Tyson!" Percy yelled, sliding to a halt next to one of the other campers, a girl wearing a large battle helmet and carrying a spear that crackled with electricity.

The flames died, and Peter, who was getting used to weird stuff happening by now, wasn't surprised to see Tyson standing unperturbed, wearing charred clothing, but looking completely fine. Percy uncapped his pen, and suddenly, he was holding a large bronze sword. Peter shook his head. This day was getting better and better.

Annabeth ran into the fray, leaving Peter alone. He wasn't about to let the younger-than-him campers fight three elephant sized fire breathing metal bulls by themselves. Sighing, he ran after Annabeth.

Peter ran past Tyson and entered the camp territory, seeing Percy and Annabeth fighting one of the bulls and holding their own, while the other two were fighting the tough girl Pete had noticed earlier. She jammed her spear into the bull's leg joint, and it toppled over. One of its massive horns clipped the girl in the arm, and her spear went spinning across the grass. She bellowed with rage in a very unladylike fashion, and the other bull turned to face her. Seeing her defenseless, the bull charged.

Acting quickly, Peter sprang forward, ramming the side of the bull with his full strength. The bull crashed to the ground thirty feet away. He walked over to the girl and helped her up to her feet. "I can take care of myself," she growled. Peter raised an eyebrow.

Peter whirled as he felt the tell-tale tingle at the back of his head, warning him of danger.

The bull was not deterred by the fall. It snorted flames and charged up the hill, straight at Peter did a backflip-which he did not realize he could do-and landed upside down on the trunk of the dying pine, over ten meters away. His hands and feet stuck to the tree like glue, and he tapped his middle fingers to his palms again, as he had done before. Twin jets of web flew straight at the bull's maw, webbing it shut, just as it was about to shoot flames at the girl, who was still weaponless. He heaved with all his strength, sending the bull straight up into the air. Everyone in the area looked upward automatically as it flailed its limbs, crashing onto the ground.

Everyone on the hill was amazed, to say the least.

"BAD COW!" Tyson yelled again, and Peter looked to see him punch the last bull's face in.

The girl walked up to him. "Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares," she said, with grudging admiration.

"I'm Peter Parker, son of… uh...Richard and Mary Parker…?" Peter said unsurely.

"So, you new here?" she asked him gruffly.

"I don't even know why I'm here, to be honest." Peter said, shrugging.

"With the way you took on that bull, you're meant to be here," she said. "Hope to see you in Ares." Clarisse thumped his back, and Peter staggered. She didn't seem to notice.

Peter nodded his appreciation, and turned to see Percy on the ground, and moved toward him. Annabeth was already there and they were talking.

"-we should take him to Chiron, let him decide what to do," Peter heard Annabeth say as he walked over to them.

"You alright?" Peter asked with concern.

"Yeah, just a sprained ankle, nothing some nectar won't heal." Percy replied as he stood shakily, leaning against Annabeth.

"Jackson, if you are done hurting yourself, there are wounded campers to attend to," Clarisse interrupted. "We've gotta let Tantalus know what happened"

"Tantalus?" Percy asked, confused.

"The activities director." Clarisse said impatiently.

"But Chiron is the activities director, and where is Argus? Isn't he head of security?"

"They were fired." She said with a sour face.

"Wha-! Chiron was _fired?_ He can't just be gone, he's trained heroes for over three thousand years! What happened?!"

"That happened." She said pointing at the dying pine tree, "You've been gone too long, things have changed."

Percy and Annabeth seemed to notice the tree for the first time. They stared in shock. Peter moved toward the tree, deciding to give it a closer look.

There were dead pine needles on the ground and what remained on the tree were yellow, in the center of the trunk, about a meter from the ground there was a bullet sized hole, from it green sap was oozing. He gathered some on his finger, sniffing it. It reminded him of something he'd smelled in chemistry just a week ago.

Peter turned to the others. "It's been poisoned," he announced.

"No duh," Clarisse said.

"Uh guys?" Tyson said. "I can't move." He was pouting in a childlike manner, leaning all his weight against an invisible force that lined up with the pine tree.

"Sure, it'll work on _him!"_ Clarisse said angrily, throwing up her hands. She obviously didn't see Tyson as any threat.

"I, Annabeth Chase, give you, Tyson, permission to enter Camp Half-Blood," Annabeth said.

Tyson fell through the barrier and crashed into the ground, digging a furrow in the grass with his shoulder.

As they walked down from hill, Peter noticed tension in the air. There were people who could only be satyrs stockpiling and rearranging weapons. Elvish women with bows and arrows were talking in an agitated way at the edge of the woods. No one welcomed them, though some campers did double takes when they saw Tyson. This was far more militaristic than he'd expected. And for the life of him, he still couldn't fathom why he was here in the first place.

Percy and Annabeth led them into a big duplex home, which they called The Big House.

"Chiron!" Percy cried, as a man on a horse came into view. Peter squinted. Was it a man on a horse, or a man _and_ a horse?

"Pony!" Tyson cried in delight.  
"I beg your pardon?" Chiron said indignantly.

Peter looked at the centaur in wonder. "Chiron? You trained heroes, right?"

"Ah! I love a boy who knows his history."

Yesterday, Peter would have argued that it wasn't history, it was mythology. But recent events had changed his perspective.

"New camper, are you? Sorry I wasn't able to get to know you better," Chiron said, shaking Peter's hand.

"I… I mean… It must have been a mistake…" Peter found himself suddenly at a loss for words. Could he believe he'd just shaken _Chiron the centaur's_ hand?

"So, you _were_ fired?" Annabeth interrupted.

"In mundane terms, yes," Chiron said, scratching the back of his neck.

Percy looked suddenly angry. "Was it Mr. D?"

"That is of no concern to you. It doesn't matter, anyway. If the gods decree it, it must be in the best interest of the camp." Chiron wagged his finger at Percy as he opened his mouth. "Don't you argue? I don't want you getting in trouble." He turned to Annabeth, looking grave. "Listen. You must promise to do everything in your power to protect Percy while I am away."

Annabeth frowned. "Why?"

"Just promise! Promise me on the River Styx!"

"I-I promise on the River Styx." Annabeth stuttered. Peter heard thunder rumble in the very clear sky.

Chiron nodded once more, an element of finality about it, and clip-clopped away, Annabeth and Percy gaping after him.

"Pony, don't go!" Tyson sniffed.

"Don't call me that," Chiron called over his shoulder.

When Chiron was safely out of earshot, Annabeth slapped Peter upside the head.

"Ow! What was that for?!" he cried indignantly.

"I keep telling you," she said in a bossy, know-it-all sort of voice, " _You're a demigod._ You see through the mist. You were able to enter camp. You have _unexplainable_ abilities. You never knew your parents. What else could you be?"

"So, the only way I can be in any way out of the ordinary is if I have a godly genes."

"No… Well, yes…" Annabeth threw up her hands, looking frustrated. "I don't know! The gods don't even have genes!"

"Look, Peter," Percy said, "I don't know what to think. Let's wait and see if you get claimed."

"Claimed?" Peter asked.

"Meaning your godly parent sends a sign to let us know who you are."

Just then, Peter heard a conch shell blow. All around them, campers and satyrs put down what they were doing and began moving toward what looked like an open mess hall.

"C'mon," Percy said, jerking his head toward the pavilion. "I'm starved."

* * *

The sun was setting behind the camp, as campers filed into the dining pavilion. There was a table for every cabin. Some were empty, while others were filled to the brim with campers of all ages. Annabeth bid them goodbye and went to join her cabin mates, nearly all of whom were blonde or had grey eyes, if not both.

Peter spotted Clarisse moving toward the Ares table. She was leading some big, mean looking kids, who Peter realized were her cabin mates. As Clarisse turned around, Peter noticed that someone had taped a piece of paper to her back that read, 'You Moo Girl!' that nobody in her cabin was bothering to tell her about.

Peter frowned, his new stance against bullying taking over. He walked over to her, and lightly tapped her on the shoulder.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp tingle at the base of his skull. He jerked his head to the side, narrowly avoiding Clarisse's fist as she whirled angrily.

First rule of Camp Half-Blood, you don't touch Clarisse unless you want to be beaten to a pulp.

Now everyone in the vicinity was staring at Peter. Not only had he touched Clarisse, he dodged her punch. No one was ever fast enough to dodge Clarisse when she was in a bad mood.

Holding up his hands in surrender, Peter said "Whoa! Hey there, snappy!"

"What in Hades do you think you're doing?" Clarisse asked, her face tomato red.

"Well, I was _trying_ to point out the paper stuck to your back, but if you just wanna leave it there, it's all good."

"What?" Clarisse growled, reaching behind her back. When she read the note, her face went from tomato to cherry.

"Who did this?!" she bellowed, and the entire pavilion looked at her and then quickly down at their plate. Someone snickered from the largest group of campers. He had elfish features and a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

" _Stoll!"_ Clarisse raged. She started forward, and the kid instinctively backed up. Then Peter caught her arm, and several people gasped.

"Hey, let it go, Clarisse! It was just a bad joke," Peter said. Clarisse looked at Peter, then stared at his hand, as if she couldn't believe he was stupid enough to touch her a second time. The whole camp was silent, and everyone was looking at them. Finally, Clarisse just shook his hand off her arm.

"Well… Thank you, I guess." She moved away.

Peter walked over to Percy. He looked dumbstruck. Behind him, at the head table, was a dark-haired man with a large potbelly. He wore an obnoxious leopard spotted shirt and Hawaiian shorts. Next to him sat a thin man in an orange prison jumpsuit, with the numbers 0001 written over his pocket. He had dark bags under his eyes, and gray hair that looked like it'd been last cut with a weedwhacker. Peter wondered if this was Tantalus, who Clarisse had mentioned earlier.

"Well," the dark-haired man said, "-that was something."

"Mmm," Tantalus said in disinterest. He had a plate of food in front of him, and most of his attention seemed to be on it. His hand moved closer to the plate slowly, as if he were sneaking up on it. He got within three inches of the plate, then suddenly snatched at a chicken leg. It zoomed away from him, sailing through the air as if it had suddenly grown wings. Peter cocked his head. Weird.

"Blast!" Tantalus said, pounding the table. Then, he looked at Tyson as if noticing him for the first time. His eyebrow crept up his forehead, and he rubbed his chin. "Well well, what do we have here?"

"You brought a _cyclops_ into my camp, Peter Johnson?" the dark-haired man said.

"Mr. D, if it weren't for Tyson, this camp wouldn't be here," Percy said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, what a pity that would have been," Tantalus said.

"Come on Tyson, Pete, let's go," Percy said, turning around to leave.

"Oh ho no! The monster stays here until we decide what to do with it." Tantalus said with his nose upturned.

"Him," Percy snapped, "his name is Tyson."

"It has a name?" Tantalus said with his eyebrows raised. Tyson pouted.

"Johnson," Mr. D said in a threatening voice, "I advise you to leave now, and let us decide this creature's fate."

Percy's jaw clenched, and he turned, moving very deliberately as he moved toward an empty table.

A satyr blew the conch horn, and everyone paused.

"Yes well, another fine meal!" Tantalus said. "Or so I am told," he said as he inched his hands towards his plate again. The chicken evaded him once more, raising eyebrows in the crowd. This reminded Peter of something he'd heard in his History and Myths class. Tantalus-that was the name of the man who'd been so horrible in life, he earned himself an eternal punishment in the afterlife. He stood in a pool of water with a fruit tree over his head, but could not eat or drink. He realized why this man was wearing a prison jumpsuit, why the food didn't want to be within his reach. But if he was so horrible, why was he made the activities director?

"I'd like to say what a pleasant form of punishment this is," Tantalus said. "I'm looking forward to torturing-err- _interacting_ with each of you. And now some changes! We are reviving the chariot races."

Everyone looked surprised at this. Excited murmuring spread across the camp. Percy frowned. Peter didn't really know what to think.

"Now I know," Tantalus continued, "that we haven't had the pleasure of enjoying a good chariot race at this camp for several years, due to, ah, _technical difficulties_."

"Three deaths and twenty-six mutilations," someone at the Apollo table called. Now Peter was a little uneasy.

"Sir," Clarisse called, using who knew how much willpower to call Tantalus sir, "what about patrol duty?"

"Ah, the hero of the day, the one who single handedly defeated the bulls!" Tantalus exclaimed.

"Uh, I didn't-" Clarisse started saying, seeming to blush.

"And so modest too!" Tantalus interjected. "This is a summer camp; we are here to enjoy ourselves!" Tantalus grinned darkly. "Oh, and the victorious team's cabin will have no chores for a month."

Now everyone seemed excited. No chores for a month?

"But the tree-" Clarisse tried to say before her siblings pulled her back into her seat.

"And now, before we move ahead, Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase have seemed to seen fit to bring this… _monstrosity_ in the camp." Tantalus said, motioning towards Tyson with flailing hands."

Peter's face reddened. Tyson didn't do anything to deserve this. Yeah he was a cyclops, but he had saved the camp from destruction.

"Excuse me sir," Peter called, "but what justification do you think you have to call Tyson a monstrosity?" Everyone looked at Peter again, and he suddenly felt nervous as he remembered what Tantalus had done to deserve eternal punishment. Then he looked at Tyson, his child-like face pleading with him, and his courage returned.

"You were the one who killed your own son and fed him to the Gods disguised as a roast lamb! Zeus himself killed you and ordered you to eternal torment! _You're_ the monstrosity. Frankly, I'm not even sure why you think you should have any authority in this camp." As Peter finished his rant, he noticed the silence that had fallen over the entire pavilion. The satyrs behind Tantalus were shaking their heads, vigorously and belatedly trying to warn him. Mr. D had a smirk on his face, and Tantalus was seething. Everyone else in the camp was speechless.

"Why you-" Tantalus started saying, but then everyone gasped Peter was confused. What was with the delayed reaction? Then he noticed where they all were staring.

Peter looked up, and saw an image projected above his head. It was a spider, colored green, blue, and red.

* * *

 ***Dun Dun Dun* so how was it? Review it and point out any mistakes I've made.**

 **This chapter is as good as it is, is solely thanks to my Beta, BatgirlBeyond. She suggested some really great edits and wrote the new dialogues….so check her stories out if you liked this chapter.**


	2. 2 The Vigilante

**Here on, I'm going to be following Marvel Comics Mythology regarding the origins and relations between different pantheons.**

 _"Why you-" Tantalus started saying, but then everyone gasped. Peter looked up, and saw an image projected above his head. It was a spider, coloured green, blue, and red._

 **OoO**

Tantalus was the worst activities director in the history of Camp Half-Blood. There was no debating that. There were admittedly some who were happy when Chiron had been fired, but even they were fed up of Tantalus. Previously, most of the burden of running the camp fell upon Chiron. Mr. D helped out only with the strawberry farms. The camp had been running smoothly for decades, but ever since Chiron was fired and Tantalus was instated as the activities director, the camp's functionalities had gone downhill. The monsters were still attacking, and damage to the camp was becoming worse every day.

One might have argued that Chiron had it easy because of the boosted defences that Thalia's tree provided, but the tree hadn't always been there. It was well known that Tantalus couldn't care less about the life of the campers. That is why, to see Tantalus get owned like that was a treat to most of the witnesses.

Tantalus was pissed off, how dare this upstart, this good for nothing boy think to insult him in front of all these people! He would pay for his insolence. In his rage he would have throttled the kid, to Hades with the consequences, when that symbol, that unknown, unexplainable sign appeared over Peter Parker's head. Then it flickered, and was replaced by a crackling bolt of electricity. If everybody were surprised before, now they were stunned. How could he be claimed twice?

Slowly, everyone in the dining pavilion bowed to Peter. He looked uncomfortable, but still the sight made Tantalus's blood boil.

"Get up, _get up,_ you imbeciles!" Tantalus shouted, and everyone glared at him, but stood. Even Dionysus, who was supposed to be on his side, was silent, looking in his direction curiously. An excited wave of whispers spread in the dining pavilion as everybody sat, still staring at the boy, who stood frozen, shocked. Low murmurs began to ring through the crowd.

Tantalus was now seeing red; this boy was supposed to be his half-brother? No, he refused to acknowledge the thought. But then what was the spider symbol? Was it the mark of Arachne? Was he a child of his father and that spider? How did that work, exactly? No, never mind. He didn't need that mental image.

"So you are the one. The champion of Anansi that I was warned about," Dionysus said.

 **OoO**

"I'm sorry, what?" Peter asked, breaking his reverie. He hated the attention, positive though it may have been. "What do you mean, Anansi?" Peter asked. Similar confusion rang out over the whole camp.

"It means that you belong somewhere else. But Father told me that if you ever entered the camp," he looked at Tantalus, "then you are to be awarded the courtesy that is awarded to any guest."

Tantalus visibly gulped at that, this little shrimp had the audacity to insult him and now he couldn't even do anything to punish him?

Peter was granted a seat on the head table, where a nymph served him Olympus olive and pepperoni pizza. He ate quietly, his cheeks burning at the hushed conversations and pointed looks he couldn't help but notice. He would have given anything to go sit with his friends. He glanced at Percy, who smiled nervously. Tyson whimpered, reminding Peter that his wasn't the only plight. He sent what he hoped was a reassuring look at the cyclops, which Tantalus was quick to notice.

"Can anyone give me any suggestions as to where this beast could be kennelled?" Tantalus asked cruelly.

Suddenly a holographic projection of a green trident appeared above Tyson's head. There were some stifled gasps, but compared to the spider, Poseidon siring a monster was surprisingly uneventful.

Tantalus roared with laughter. "I think I know where to put the beast now. By gods, I can see the family resemblance!"

The camp burst into laughter. Peter saw Percy visibly slouch into his seat. He also noticed the absence of laughter in the case of Annabeth, and to his surprise, Clarisse.

 **OoO**

The dinner itself was swell in Peter's opinion. For dessert he'd gotten a cherry pie that tasted just like his Aunt May's. _I miss you guys,_ he'd thought as nostalgia hit him. Nothing else exceptional had happened during dinner, although he was still unsure what being the champion of Anansi meant. He was thinking about raising the question to Mr. D, the man in the leopard spotted shirt, but between eating and finishing dinner, he disappeared somewhere.

After the dinner, Peter attended the camp bonfire. Most of the camp was wary of him after the night's events, with the exception of some pretty Aphrodite girls, who invited him to sit by them during the bonfire. He declined politely in favor of sitting with his friends. As he did, though, he noticed a tension in the air. Annabeth, who was sitting beside him, seemed to be anxious about something. Her jaw was clenched, and her posture was stiff as she pointedly avoided Peter's gaze.

"What's up?" Peter asked her in a whisper. Annabeth opened her mouth, then seemed to reconsider her answer, and closed it again.

"Nothing." Her voice was hoarse. She glanced at Percy, who was singing along to the camp songs animatedly.

Peter scooted closer to her, oblivious to her quick intake of breath. "Who is Anansi?"

"He.…" Annabeth sighed. "Well, he's… not supposed to exist, really."

"There's a lot of that going around. But, if you don't want to talk, I could go sit by Clarisse…"

Annabeth shuddered. "Parker, you are probably the one kid in this camp who would voluntarily sit next to her when she's in a mood."

"Everyone hates her that much?"

"It's more like she hates everyone else that much."

"Why's she in a mood?"

"She's always in a mood. The reason she's especially mad now is probably because of you."

Peter was taken aback. "Me? What did I do?"

"Think about it. It's your first day of camp, and already you've defeated an ancient enemy single-handedly. You were claimed twice, neither time was it normal. You've stolen her limelight."

"Huh." He stared ahead, dazed. "I can affect her that much?"

Now Annabeth turned to look at him. "Most people can't. There's something different about you, Peter."

Peter was silent for a moment as he processed that information. "You never answered my question though," he said, changing the subject. Who is Anansi?"

"I'm not particularly familiar with African mythology. But as I remember it, Anansi was the god of wisdom and trickery. He's also strongly associated with spiders, which would explain the spider symbol."

"I guess it makes sense. My abilities are somewhat spider-related."

"But Dionysus said that you were the _champion_ of Anansi, not the son of…"

"Wait, hold on. _Dionysus?_ "

"Yes, Mr. D," Annabeth said dismissively. "But I can't get past the second symbol. No one has ever been claimed twice, and that is not the sign that is supposed to show up when we get a child of Zeus, yet it was obviously his, but what else could it mean? Oh..."

"Annabeth?" Peter asked.

Annabeth started as she was pulled out of her contemplation. "What? Oh. Right. Anyway, that is _not_ normal. The only thing I can think of is it being the signal of Zeus's consent. For you to stay in the camp, I mean."

"That would explain Mr. D's reaction."

Annabeth sighed. "I can't make heads or tails of it."

"Hey guys, it's about time to turn in." Percy said. Peter realized that while he'd been talking with Annabeth, most of the camp had disappeared into various cabins. The light of the campfire was dimming, and it was becoming very dark. Percy began walking away, and Annabeth followed closely. Peter hesitated.

"I shouldn't be here," he said, not moving. Annabeth sighed heavily, and turned around.

"You have official permission from the king of the gods, and you still think you're not welcome?"

"It's not that. I have a life. Well, sort of. The nuns at St. Agnes will be wondering where I am. Besides, I doubt that Anansi has a cabin here."

"True," Percy said. "Usually, people who are unclaimed or don't have their own cabins stay in Hermes. As the god of travellers, he's kind of obligated to take them in."

"But you're a special case. I'm sure if you wanted to, Mr. D would get you a room in the Big House," Annabeth said.

Peter grimaced. "No thanks. I'll stay in the Hermes cabin."

Percy smirked. "You might change your mind when you see it. Hermes is always overflowing with people."

This turned out to be true. Peter was resolved to not make himself stand out at camp any more than he already did, however. Even when he met the co-counsellors, Travis and Connor Stoll, who were small, wiry, and very mischievous, he was still resolved. When his wallet went missing among his new cabin mates, though, he became wary.

There were way more kids than bunks in the cabin, and so Peter was given a square of floor and a blanket. He grimaced as he eased himself down onto the hardwood, but he still refused to go down to the level of him required to sleep in the same building as Tantalus.

Peter was exhausted, but the clamour in the cabin refused to die down. Travis and Connor hadn't called for a lights out, and they seemed to have no intention of doing so. Sleep became impossible. Grumbling, Peter grabbed a flashlight off a table next to the door and left the cabin.

Outside, Peter paused. Typical of him, running into a situation with very little foresight. What was he planning on doing now? Frustrated, he kicked a rock on the ground. It shot away, shattering a window in Aphrodite cabin-over a hundred feet away. Peter heard a cry of indignation from one of the Aphrodite kids, and winced. Suddenly he was reminded of a pressing need that required him being somewhere else: Dodging attention.

The lights in Hephaestus and Apollo were dark, but Ares was lit with dim red light, and heavy metal music was blaring out of the windows. Ignoring the barbed wire on the roof and the cautionary sign bearing language that made Peter cringe, he went up to the door. He hesitated before knocking. But if Clarisse was in this cabin, they couldn't all be bad.

No one answered at the first knock. Or the second. But the only other lit cabin was Dionysus-and Mr. D wasn't exactly his favourite god either. So Peter persisted. Finally, a burly boy opened the door and sneered at him. "What do you want?"

"Umm…" Peter found himself at a sudden loss for words. The boy was at least eighteen, and the bearer of biceps the size of basketballs. A large tattoo decorated one arm, enhanced by the many scars accompanying it.

"Who's there?" someone called from inside.

"Ah, just some wimpy little kid," the kid said. Peter was suddenly indignant.

"I'm fifteen!" he cried.

"Yeah," the boy said. "What's your point?"

Peter growled. Now he was mad. Though he wasn't sure if that was due entirely to the Ares kid, or the war-like aura around the cabin. "I was just wondering if you had a cell phone I could borrow."

"Why do you need it?" a girl said, appearing next to the boy. She was about fourteen, small, with stringy black hair and a sneer to match the boy's. "You want to call your _girlfriend?"_

"No, I bet he wants to call his mommy," someone called from inside, laughing.

"What's going on? Sherman?" another voice said, and Peter was suddenly reassured as Clarisse pulled the burly kid, Sherman, out of the doorway. She looked surprised to see Peter, and her cheeks reddened slightly, but they didn't yet mimic the tomato hue they'd taken on at dinner. To be honest, with her small eyes and strong looks, she looked intimidating.

"Oh. You," she said.

"Loving the enthusiasm," Peter said. Clarisse glared at him.

"He wants a phone," the girl said. "To call his _mommy._ "

"Shut up, pea brain," Clarisse said, and roughly pushed her away. She stepped out of the cabin, shutting the door behind her. "Sorry about Dia and Sherman. They're morons."

"No prob. It was nothing, really." Peter was suddenly nervous. He realized he'd never been alone with Clarisse before. She seemed to lighten up now that she was alone. Maybe, Pete realized, she was finally being herself.

"Why do you need it?" she asked him.

"Oh- the phone? I need to call my orphanage and tell them I'm staying at a friend's house or something."

"You live in an orphanage?" she asked, a bit of sympathy in her eyes.

"Well yeah, it's no big deal though," he said, trying to change the subject.

"Go ask Tantalus, there's a phone in the Big House," she said. She hesitated for a moment, as if considering something, but then she turned around and went back in the cabin,

"Oh- well, thanks Clarisse!" Peter called after her.

"See you around, Web head," Clarisse called gruffly over her shoulder. She slipped back inside the cabin, not turning back.

Peter shrugged it off as the door was closed behind her. _Must be in one of her moods_ he thought as he walked away. A few minutes later, he was knocking on Tantalus's door. Once again he waited for what felt like an eternity. Then the door latch clicked, and the door opened a crack.

"What do you need, O' esteemed guest?" Tantalus said sarcastically.

"I need to use the phone."

"What for?" Tantalus said suspiciously.

"I need to call the folks at my place and tell them where I am." Tantalus sniffed, and after a pause, opened the door wider, revealing him dressed in a full length velvet purple robe.

"Hmm," Tantalus said, pretending to consider it. "Fine. It's in there," he said, standing to the side and pointing at a doorway with his thumb. As Peter passed, he feigned nonchalance while examining his nails.

 _Well that was easy,_ Peter thought as he entered the house.

The phone was an old model. It was attached to a wall with a cord. He picked it up, and dialed the orphanage's number. After several rings, an old woman picked up the receiver end.

"Hello, St. Agnes Orphanage."

"Hello, uh, Sister Margaret?" Peter asked.

"Speaking."

"Yeah, this is Peter, I was calling to let you know that I am going to be spending the night at my friend's house, so don't worry about me." Peter spoke softly.

"In Lord's name Peter are you okay?! I heard some hooligans blew up the school gymnasium. They were accusing you of being guilty, but I wouldn't hear of it. I told them, Peter Parker is far too timid a child for such tomfoolery."

"Yeah, thanks Sister Margaret. I ran away after the gym blew up, I thought that they were going to attack me. I met my friend and his mother offered for me to stay at their house for the night." Peter was disturbed at how easily the lies slipped from his tongue.

"I expect you to be here tomorrow morning, the police want you to ask you about the details about the incident."

Peter winced. _The police?_ "Yeah sure, I'll be there, don't worry about me. Good night, Sister Margaret."

"Such a nice boy you are, Peter. I wish the same to you." Sister Margaret said cheerily, and ended the call. Margaret always reminded him of a grandmother, though as far as he knew, both of his were dead.

 **OoO**

It was dark. He could hardly see anything beyond a few feet from himself. He was in a cave that much was certain. He could feel a rock face to his back, and the air was dank and humid. The hairs on Peter's neck were standing up. This was the most vivid dream he'd ever had. He could feel a presence around him, large and overpowering. His natural instinct was to flee-but of course he wouldn't get very far in this darkness. He found himself hyperventilating. He sat on the cold stone ground, putting his head between his knees. After several minutes, however, he realized that the darkness was suddenly far less overpowering. It hadn't gotten lighter, exactly, but he somehow knew where everything was. It was like a bat's echolocation-he was getting feedback from his surroundings, painting a picture in his mind's eye. This was weird, because his spider-sense had never worked like this before.

Peter could feel millions of tiny _things_ scurrying about in the shadows, all moving in the same direction. He shuddered as some of them crawled over him, hundreds of little legs tickling his bare skin. They started piling upon themselves, forming a large mound on the ground which soon grew limbs. The shape was becoming humanoid. Peter instinctively scooted back-he'd watched enough horror movies to know what would happen next. His fears became justified as the figure solidified.

"Soo...how was school?" The figure asked in a cheery African accent. Peter jumped back in shock.

"Wha-WHO IN THE HECK ARE YOU?!" he bellowed. This was certainly not a normal dream.

"Right down to business, eh?" The figure said. Peter could barely make out his form, but he could tell what the man looked like in the same way he'd seen before. He was tall and wiry, dark-skinned and dressed in bright, vibrant colours. His hair was styled in long, beaded dreadlocks. "People call me Kwaku Anansi, the Spider-God, the trickster, the Great Weaver et cetera et cetera. You can call me Anansi, Kwaku, Mr. K, even Spidey-just don't you dare call me Annie."

"Okay," Peter said uncertainly, "you gave me this powers?"

"Why, of course! You, Peter Parker, are my newest champion on this earth. Well, actually, my _only_ champion on this earth." Anansi flashed a grin at Peter, but he was not reassured.

"Now you might ask what that means, exactly," Anansi continued. "You are a very bright child, after all. It simply means that I've chosen you; given you the power to change the world. Why? Well, I'd like to say that it had some sort of deep meaning or whatever, but to be truthful, I was bored." He said it as if that was a completely normal reason to mess up someone's life, and possibly affect the entire world at large.

"What- you're saying you turned my whole life upside-down on a WHIM?!" Peter asked heatedly.

"Well, not necessarily. You were destined to get your powers at the age of fifteen, I just sped things up a bit," Anansi said with a shrug.

"What do you mean I was _destined_ to get these powers? Why me?" he asked, confused.

"Well you see, there's this... metaphysical _web_ called the Web of Life. The Web is…well, fate! Each strand shows the potential futures of the multiverse, yours and many other people's action changes those futures. See, while you may be my only champion on _this_ earth, there are plenty of them in other universes. There are thousands of spider people, and they're not even all mine! You know that precognitive sense you have, your _Spider-Sense,_ it's actually a phenomenon of Web of Life on a small scale. It taps into the Web and predicts the future," Anansi explained to him.

"Who are these other people?" Peter asked, now curious.

"Your friend Perseus for one. He is not gifted with spider-like abilities, as many of you are, but he is nevertheless a part of all of it. He will make or break the future of Western Civilization with a single choice, but you are not to tell him this. He is far from ready for that sort of revelation. It is certainly not your place," Anansi warned him, with a sudden edge in his voice.

"Okay, so…that's it? I don't have to, like, do your bidding or something like that?" Peter asked

"No, of course not! I am insulted. Unlike my uptight relatives, there are no rules for me against interfering with the mortal world, and even if there were, I doubt I would listen. I can do my 'bidding' myself." He raised his hands in mimed air quotes as he said the word.

"Wait, _relatives?"_ Peter asked, confused.

"Yes, the Olympians. All the gods are related through the Earth Mother. They call her Gaea, I call her Nana. The Devas would call her Aditi, among Asgardians she's Jord. We all have a common ancestor. I know Zeus personally as I'm technically his half cousin or something. We talked last at the Council of Godheads, held once every millennia. He knows me, and he knows I would never purposefully send a danger to his camp. That's the reason he consented to your presence there, at least for a time."

"This is all too much to take in," Peter said quietly. "How many pantheons exist?"

"Let's just say _quite a few,_ and leave it at that."

"So, did you bring me here to tell me all this?"

"No. Well, yes, that was the part of the reason. What I really wanted to discuss are your powers. They will get more powerful depending mostly upon some very important things that you are in constantly in contact with. First and foremost is chaotic energy, or as I like to call it, murder energy. You mainly get that from killing people, but being so important a part in the Web, you can absorb it from places where it is concentrated. This camp is such a place. Greek magic is about shaping chaotic energy to bring a form of order, but underneath that pseudo order, there is, as always was, chaos.

"As long as you are in such a place, your powers will develop at an accelerated rate. Like for instance, that incident with the Colchis Bulls. And just think; that was only with a few _moments_ of exposure! You are naturally more powerful with Greek influence. You can feel the difference right now in your Spider-Sense, can't you? You can sense things around you. Like sonar. That's because you are an ancient, magic soaked place. You will unlock more of those powers naturally as you grow, but this place enhances you, and speeds up your development.," he said as he lit up a cigarette, lighting up what had previously been almost pitch black. Peter frowned, and Anansi looked up. "What?"

"Isn't that bad for you?"

Anansi snickered. "Are you serious, Peter? I'm a god! We _invented_ the cigarette! It was never intended for human use, hence the lung damage. Anyway, you will now have a choice in your future. That choice is yours alone to make. However you choose, it will not only affect your growth, but it may shape reality as you know it. Personally, I think you should say yes when the choice comes along." He inhaled a puff of smoke.

Exhaling with an audible sigh, he said, "You are going to face many obstacles in your life, Peter, because _with great power comes great responsibility,_ and greater enemies. Now sleep. We'll meet again. Oh, and by the way, about that Web of Life I was talking about. You're kind of at the center. So, yeah. No pressure."

Anansi snapped his fingers and Peter suddenly found standing up to be a challenge. "Wait! What do you..." he never finished, however, because at that moment he toppled to the ground.

 **OoO**

Peter sat up very suddenly. He was gasping for breath, and soaked with sweat. He blinked against the harsh light, disoriented. As he looked around, he began to get his bearings. He was in Hermes cabin, which was nearly empty. Two kids were still there, an older girl reading a book in the corner, and a small, blond boy lounging on a bunk. The sun was long since above the horizon, and, glancing at his watch, he realized that it was already eight thirty. He was late for school. But it was Saturday. Or was it Friday?

"Hey, welcome to the land of the living!" the boy said cheerily.

"Huh?" Peter stood, rubbing an ache in his shoulder. Stupid hardwood. Although, it was better than stone. Like the stone in his dream. And suddenly, it all came rushing back. The cave, Anansi. His destiny. He was the _centre_ of the Web of Life. Yeah right.

The boy stood up, holding out his hand for Peter to shake. "Cecil Markowitz. Glad to meet you."

"Peter Parker," Pete said, taking his hand.

"Ah," Cecil said, giving Peter a mischievous smile, "so it was you that took Alec's flashlight." Peter looked down, and realized that he was still holding the flashlight he'd grabbed the night before. He'd clenched it so hard in his sleep that his hand was printed with red lines. He dropped the flashlight, and moved back to his space.

One thing he was certain of. He couldn't stay here. He didn't belong. He wasn't a demigod, and he needed to get back to Queens. Besides, the Spider-god had wanted him to stay, which meant that staying was the last thing Peter wanted to do, no matter what the consequences of leaving might be. He began packing his backpack, which he'd been wearing the day before at school.

"What are you doing?" the girl asked him.

"I'm leaving. I don't belong here," Peter said.

Cecil rolled his eyes. "Jenna, get Percy."

"Why do _I_ have to get Percy? _You_ get Percy," Jenna said.

"Fine. You can get Annabeth, instead," Cecil said, smiling.

"I have a better idea," Peter said. "Why don't you get Tantalus? I'm sure he'd be more than happy to approve my leaving."

"Yeah, which exactly why we _shouldn't_ go to Tantalus, man!" Cecil said. "Why are you in such a hurry to get outta here, anyway?"

"I have places to be."

"Alright, fine. I'll get Percy," Jenna said, standing up. She set her book to the side.

Peter almost laughed aloud. "You're kidding yourselves if you think that a thirteen year old kid is going to get me to do anything."

"You'd be surprised," Jenna said. "Besides, Cecil's only twelve, and he can be pretty persuasive. Why do you think that I'm leaving right now?" Jenna stepped out the door.

"She's not going to get Percy, is she?" Cecil asked.

"Nope," Peter said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He moved to follow Jenna out the door, but Cecil ran in front of him.

"Stay, please?" Cecil's face was child-like, pleading.

Peter hesitated for a moment, then said, "No." He pushed the boy aside, and continued outside. It wouldn't be hard to get Tantalus to give him permission to call a cab.

"Don't follow me, Cecil," Peter called behind him.

"How did you know I was here?" the boy asked.

"No offense kid, but you have about as much stealth as a one-legged bear on steroids."

"You know," Cecil said after a pause," "saying 'no offense' doesn't make it any less offensive!"

Cecil did stay behind after that, though. Peter was walking for only a few moments, however, when his path crossed with Annabeth's.

"Where are you going?" she asked suspiciously, almost nervously. "What's with the bag?"

"I'm leaving," Peter responded.

"Why?"

"Well, you know about yesterday's incident at school. The cops want to ask me some questions because of that Sloan kid. He told the cops that I and Percy destroyed the gym. I have to clear that mess up."

"Oh…won't you stay for a few more days? At least t-till the chariot race, I think I am going to ask Percy to t-t-team up with me."

"What's with the stutter?"

"It's nothing."

"Sure," Peter said sarcastically. "Because everyone in this camp develops random stutters all the time, right?"

Annabeth grimaced. "I just…I don't like spiders. There's kind of an eternal rivalry between Athena and Arachne, and so spiders have always had a bit of a grudge against us."

"Does it make any difference that I'm not related to Arachne in any way, shape, or form?"

"Yes, a little. I'll admit, though, I was scared for a moment when that spider appeared over your head."

"I guess that's understandable."

"Will you stay?"

"Well, I want to, really. But like I said, there are some things I have to take care of back in Queens." Peter told her, "I will come back, I promise. There are too many unanswered questions for me to stay away. You don't have to worry about me," Peter said.

"Are you planning on saying goodbye to Percy and Tyson?"

"Is he awake?"

"Percy's always been early-to-rise. He'll be up," she said, taking his arm and leading him towards the Poseidon cabin.

The cabin was long, low, and solid. The walls were a rough grey stone decorated with sea-shells and corals. Inside, there were six bunk beds, out of which only two were occupied. The population was a stark contrast from the Hermes cabin. Percy and Tyson were talking when they entered.

"Aw Tyson, It's not that simple." Percy was saying. "Hey, Annabeth, Peter. What are you doing in here?"

"The _Spider_ wants to leave camp."

"Why? Is it the same reason as yesterday?" Percy asked.

"Yes and` no. The police think that we destroyed the gym. I've got to clear all that up." Percy nodded in understanding.

"I might have only known you for a day, Pete, but you've quickly became a good friend. And thanks for defending Tyson yesterday."

"Yeah, don't worry. Tantalus was being a jerk, and besides, Tyson's my friend too. Right Tyson?" Peter said, looking at the cyclops.

"Me? Your friend?!" Tyson asked, his face morphing into a happy expression.

"Yeah, of course you," Peter said.

"I made a new friend!" Tyson said happily to everyone in the room.

"I'll miss you, Tyson," Peter said. Tyson beamed, and Pete found himself suddenly immersed in a mountain of odd-smelling cotton as Tyson gave him a bear-hug.

"See you, Peter," Annabeth said, smiling.

 **OoO**

As Peter had anticipated, Tantalus was only too eager to give him a ride out. The drive was far less exciting in a regular old taxicab, and Peter found himself missing the oddities of Camp Half Blood and their crazy taxi-driving triplets already. When he arrived at St. Agnes, the first thing he noticed was the police cruiser parked in front of the orphanage. When he entered, he greeted the solemn-faced nun at the reception, Sister Lisa. She nodded to him gravely. This seemed to be more serious than he'd thought.

"Hello Peter," Sister Lisa said, "I'll lead you to the officer who wants to speak to you. I hope for your sake and for this establishment you don't get in any trouble." She peered down her hawk-like nose at him, as if saying, _If you tarnish our reputation, I will personally make sure you are escorted to the state penitentiary in chains._ Sister Lisa had never exactly been parental guardian of the year.

"Thank you Sister Lisa," Peter said meekly as he followed her into the lounge. He hadn't been in there much before; the room was reserved strictly for guests, and the orphanage's children were generally not invited in. The decorations in the room reminded Peter of an old grandmother's house, with flowery plush, silk, and lace draped over everything.

An African-American man in a blue police uniform was sitting on the ancient victorian sofa, sipping tea that no doubt Sister Margaret had provided. Spotting Peter, he laid the cup on the table and gave him a warm smile.

"Hello, Peter?" the man asked.

"Yup," Peter said glumly, standing by the door. The man seemed friendly enough, but Peter wasn't taking any chances.

"Good to meet you," the man said, beckoning to him. Reluctantly, Peter moved toward him, sitting in a dull pink wingback armchair across from the officer. "I'm Sergeant Brett Mahoney," he said, leaning forward. "I wanted to hear your side of the story about the explosion at the school yesterday, then if you'll permit me to ask you some questions in that regard," Mahoney said, picking up a biscuit from the plate on the coffee table and sitting back again.

"Sure…" Peter said uncertainly, but behind Mahoney, Sister Margaret was adopting a stern look and cocking her head. Amazing how the nuns here always seemed to enjoy speaking without words. "I mean, yes sir," Peter corrected himself, straightening up. St. Agnes had always adopted a strict policy of poise and obedience.

"No need for that, kid," Mahoney said, finishing the biscuit and wiping the crumbs from his mouth. "Let's begin." He fished a small notepad and ink pen out of his pocket, and looked at Peter attentively.

Tentatively, Peter began his story. The lies were becoming more fluid with each go. Sister Margaret would be disappointed. He told Mahoney about how he'd just been perfecting his science project in the gym while a class of seventh graders were playing dodgeball. He'd heard it get a little rowdy, but he was wearing headphones, and he didn't really look up until the first bang. It looked like some kid had brought fireworks as a prank, and was setting them off everywhere. One had launched into the boy's' locker room, and likely ignited the large amount of fumes present inside. He'd been scared, and he was afraid someone would pin the damage on him, and so he ran. It wasn't a completely fluid story, but Mahoney seemed to buy it.

"Well, Peter," the officer said, standing up, "I'm pretty confident that you'll get off the hook. We're still looking for that other kid, Percy Johanson, or whatever his name was."

"Jackson," Peter corrected him automatically.

"Right," Mahoney said, eyeing him, "Jackson. Anyway, if you see him, if he tries to contact you in any way, you know who to call, correct?" Peter nodded hurriedly. "Great," Mahoney said, nodding to Sister Margaret and leaving. Once Mahoney had left, Sister Margaret sat down.

"Well, that was something," she said brightly, obviously trying to cheer him up. She had always nursed a soft spot where Peter was concerned.

"Yeah," Peter said absently. "It sure was." He had to find a way to contact Percy. But he didn't have his number. Did Percy even have a cell phone? It didn't seem to be all that common among Half-Bloods.

"Are you okay, Peter?" Sister Margaret asked.

"What?" Peter said, looking up quickly. "Oh, yes. Yeah, I'm great."

"Well, I'm sorry to give you even more bad news, but I'm afraid that the school isn't going to invite you back next year. I tried to tell them, that there is no possibility that you were guilty, but they apparently didn't want to take any chances. Wouldn't even agree to see if you were cleared by the police! Right idiots, the lot of them!" Peter smiled wanly. So much for his basketball scholarship. Maybe he could go back to Midtown High School next year. He hoped he still had friends there; after all, they'd all last known him as the school nerd turned bully. But there was still a chance they could reconnect, one in particular. He smiled wider as his thoughts turned to Gwen, the girl he'd had a crush on since fourth grade. The same girl had, of course, renounced all ties with him last year. She'd seen better than anyone how much he'd changed. But if there was anyone he wished to see again, it was her.

 **OoO**

Sitting on the orphanage rooftop, Peter was working on his costume. It wasn't easy; he didn't have much money nor access to the supplies he needed now that he was expelled from school. He simply had to do with what he already had.

He was now altering his old black and red hooded sweatshirt. He'd never been great shakes at sewing, so he spray-painted a spider on the front of the sweat shirt in blue. He'd raided the storeroom of the orphanage and found a red ski mask and a pair of fingerless gloves.

As he looked down on himself, he groaned. He looked like a cat burglar on Halloween! He wished he could replace the ski mask, but it was all he had. As he contemplated, he realized that the track pants he'd donned wouldn't be convenient in cold weather. Luckily, it was May, so he wouldn't have to worry about that for a few months.

Tonight would be the first night he would really test out his powers. Previously, he'd practiced using them for sports. Now he would be training with a different goal in mind; the betterment of the city. It was with that in mind that he snuck out of his bedroom window that night and into the darkened streets of Manhattan.

Peter was at a loss for what to do next. He hadn't really been planning this far ahead. But the city lights were beautiful, and he didn't even notice as the cool night air bit into his skin. He felt, for the first time, completely free. He could do whatever he wanted.

Holding onto the surprising sense of euphoria, Peter stepped up to the side of the building. It was a long way down, but strangely, he didn't feel scared at all. He knew that somehow, he'd catch himself. Without any preparation, without a running start, Peter bent his legs and jumped. He wasn't sure what prompted him to do it. But suddenly he was flying higher than he'd ever thought was possible, the strength in his legs propelling him over twenty feet away, to the next roof.

He landed hard, stumbling, on the other side. Catching his breath, Peter whipped off his ski mask. Looking back, he realized that the orphanage roof was not only far in distance, but several feet below the building he was on now. He should not have been able to make that jump. Then he turned again. The edge of his current rooftop was about forty feet away. The next building was level with this one, but the gap was even farther than the last one. Grinning, Peter lowered himself into a crouched position. After a moment of psyching himself up, he sprang forward, running at a sprint. When he reached the edge of the building, he leapt with all his strength.

At the end of his jump, Peter's foot slipped off the edge of the building's corner. His arms slapped against the cold concrete, and he began to slip. He scrambled for purchase, barely restraining his panic. His feet couldn't grip the wall with his thick-soled sneakers, and he was relying on arm strength alone. His fingers gripped the smooth surface, sticking like a spider. With a final kick off the red brick below, Pete was rolling onto the rooftop. He lay there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Obviously, he needed more practice.

Slowly, Peter heaved himself into a sitting position. He pulled off his sneakers, wincing as the cold night's air bit into his stocking feet. He'd been able to use his spider abilities with shoes before. Hopefully, it would work through thinner soles. Standing, Peter tucked his shoes into a corner. He'd be back for those later. Then, he faced the next gap. Backing up, Peter's eyes took on a determined glint. Not bothering to crouch, he broke into a run, sprinting to the edge of the building at top speed. He pushed off, using the enhanced strength in his legs to propel himself forward. When he landed, he barely slowed before attempting the next jump. He landed in a crouch, and before he'd gone another step, was vaulting himself over the large vent blocking his path.

Peter grinned to himself. He was a regular superhero. Leaping from building to building, barely slowing in between, seemed an oddly effective mode of travel.

Distracted, Peter realized suddenly that he was at the end of the block. With a yelp, he stumbled, and the momentum of his run made him pitch forward. Arms pin wheeling, Peter tumbled over the edge, falling like a rock toward the unforgiving asphalt below.

In memory, Peter would edit out the high-pitched shriek he made unwittingly when he first went over. Plummeting to the road below, which was busy even at this hour of night, he felt his heart drop out of his chest. Flailing, Peter tried frantically to catch hold of something, anything. And as his fall began to feel irreversible, he remembered his best - his only - asset.

As he made the now-familiar movement, a long strand of artificial webbing propelled itself from the machine on his wrist with a _thwip._ The web latched onto the corner of a building, and Peter a jerk on his arm, and the web detached from his shooter. Grasping desperately, he managed to grab hold of the strand with both arms, and found his fall suddenly slowed as he swung in a large arc. At the peak, he released the web, quickly firing another.

Abruptly, Peter's terror turned into glee. While soaring through the skies of New York at the end of a spider's web, he felt strangely at home. When he released the web, Peter lingered in the air for a moment, and he let loose a piercing war whoop as gravity caught him once more. He dropped like a rock, freefalling for several seconds before firing his shooters again. Deftly catching the web as it detached, Peter grabbed it with both hands and pulled down hard, launching himself into an airborne somersault.

The wind whistled past him as he streaked through the air. For a few glorious minutes, Peter was free, away from the pain and heartache that always accompanied him. For the first time in over a decade, he forgot about the day his parents died. He forgot about the disaster that cost the lives of his remaining family. He forgot about his severed relationship with Gwen. He was truly carefree.

Peter scowled when he heard the yelling. Who did they think they were, ruining his suddenly great day? He almost swung right past, but as his uncle's prophetic words echoed through his head, he sighed. He had the great power. It was time to take care of the responsibility part.

Swinging in a sudden, sharp turn, Peter angled his body up, planning to land fluidly on top of the nearest building. Instead, he slammed into the wall with an ever-so-graceful splat. He stuck to the smooth brick like a spider, groaning in pain as he slowly crawled over the edge of the roof and flopped onto the hard cement ground.

"What do you expect from me, Nakamura?" a man's voice said angrily from the alley below. "I'm _just a cat burglar._ I've told you this before."

Peter peeked over the edge of the building. About fifty feet below, a grey-haired man was backed into a corner by a lone mugger. Slowly getting to his feet, Peter muttered, "Why is it always an old guy?"

"What I expect, _Mister Hardy,_ is for you to return what you've stolen from me." The attacker's voice was smooth and menacing.

"I don't have it," Hardy said simply.

Nakamura snarled, pulling out a long, bronze knife. "I want it _now!_ Who did you sell it to?"

"The money? I used it to pay off a debt."

"Not that, idiot! I meant the fortune!"

Hardy paused. "What are you on about, Ethan?"

"The fortune cookie!"

"The cookie? _That's_ what you're on about? Why would I sell _that?"_

Nakamura roared, thrusting the knife at the cornered man. Hardy dodged narrowly, and his attacker slashed again.

"That's my cue," Peter said to himself. Pulling on the ski mask, he dove off the edge of the building. He fell headfirst, reversing in mid-air so he was upright. He landed silently, flexing his knees and ankles to absorb his momentum. In front of him, the scuffle continued, unaware of Peter's presence. Unaware, that is, until he shot twin streaks of sticky webbing at the back of Ethan Nakamura's black T-shirt. The web had barely landed before Peter jerked it away, taking the slight figure with it. Heaving with all his strength, Peter threw Nakamura across the alley. The boy seemed surprisingly light. Peter didn't realize that he wasn't.

Metal clanged against metal as Nakamura's armoured body came to rest in a Dumpster across the alley. Grinning to himself, Peter turned to the shocked man standing behind him.

"Who- who are you?" Hardy asked, eyes wide.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Peter said cheerfully. "I'm Batman."

Hardy gaped, staring at the masked figure in front of him. All he managed to say was, "Ah."

Suddenly, Peter felt the twinge of his Spider-sense. He whirled, and found himself face-to-face with a dark haired, armour-clad boy wielding a long, wicked looking blade. The tip of the knife barely scraped Peter's chest as he leapt backward, but pain flared along the cut much sharper than it should have been. Alarmed, he staggered backwards.

"Poisoned, huh?" Peter said, trying to sound at ease. "Should've guessed. You seem like the poisoned knife type." Inside, Peter was panicking. The poison could have long-lasting effects. Luckily, it wasn't a deep cut, but his sweatshirt was cut neatly in half down the middle. He felt a pang of annoyance about that. After only one night, his outfit was already shredded.

"Who do you think you are?" Ethan said angrily.

"Seriously, is that the only question you people can ask? No 'how are you?' No 'where are you from?' Sheesh, man, work on your manners."

Ethan slashed again with his knife, and this time Peter dodged neatly to the side. "Answer the question, moron!"

"Now now, buddy," Peter said jovially as he dodged another wild strike, "that's no way to treat a new acquaintance. But you can call me…" Peter paused as he leapt over Ethan's blade, backflipping in mid-air and landing neatly on all fours on the wall above Nakamura. "The Scarlet Spider!"

Ethan Nakamura paused his assault to look confused at Peter. "That is an incredibly stupid name."

"Eh, you're probably right." Peter launched off the wall, landing behind Ethan. Nakamura whirled, his knife whistling above Pete's head. "How about 'Agent Venom?'"

"What's that, a disease?" Ethan grunted as Peter fired his webs at his knife, knocking it from Nakamura's grasp. He charged Peter, who effortlessly leapt over him, kicking him in the back. Ethan rammed his head into the wall, and he cried out in pain.

"Fine. You just go ahead and call me Silk, and I'll forgive your narrow-mindedness."

Ethan slumped to the ground. "Where did that name come from?"

"You know, like a _spider's_ silk!" Peter fired his webs at Ethan once more, to demonstrate his point.

"Sounds like a girl's name," he growled from his new cocoon of web.

Peter sighed. "I'm pretty sure that these are all going to be wildly popular someday. But I don't have time for a stickler like you. Good luck getting out of there any time soon without this," Peter said as he webbed Ethan's knife where it had fallen. He jerked the web toward him, and the poisoned blade sailed through the air. Peter caught it deftly by the hilt, grinning as he watched Ethan's eyes widen.

"Well, I think that just about wraps this up," a voice said lightly from behind Peter. Hardy, who'd been standing in the corner for the duration of the skirmish, had evidentially recovered from the shock of Peter's entrance. He now mimed tipping a hat to Peter, walking casually toward the mouth of the alley.

"Oh, no you don't, mister," Peter said, webbing the back of Hardy's shirt. The man tensed, turning to face the masked teen.

"What do you want from me?"

"Well, a thank you would be nice."

Hardy sighed in relief. "Is that all? Well, kind stranger, thank you for your efforts." Again, Hardy turned his back on Peter.

"Also," Peter continued, "would you mind explaining to me why you were being assaulted by a teenager wearing armor and carrying a _celestial bronze_ dagger?" Hardy tensed.

"Because Walter Hardy is an idiotic kleptomaniac with no respect for things that should be left _alone!"_ Ethan Nakamura shouted. Hardy jumped backwards as Ethan began to thrash in his sticky binding.

"Believe me, if I'd known how much trouble it would bring, I never would have gone on that stupid boat! All I got for my efforts were a few pounds of gold and various objects with little value," Hardy said heatedly.

"What boat?" Peter asked suspiciously.

"The cruise ship! The princess something."

Ethan growled. "The _Princess Andromeda,_ idiot."

"Right!" Hardy said. "That. Like I say, it wasn't worth it. I'm not exactly sure what Nakamura is so particular about, either. I took quite a few things."

"The cookie!" Ethan cried. "The fortune cookie! What did you do with it?"

"Well, I ate it of course. What else would I have done?"

Ethan paled. "What? You opened it?"

"Well, that would tend to be a rather practical part of eating a fortune cookie," Peter interjected sarcastically, folding his arms.

"What did the fortune say?" Ethan said. "Tell me!"

Hardy considered for a moment before saying nonchalantly, "I don't know."

"You don't know?!"

"I didn't look. I was in somewhat of a hurry, you know. Now if you don't mind, I have a daughter to get back to." With that, Hardy turned and simply walked away. Peter ignored him, looking at Ethan Nakumura in disgust. He was staring straight ahead, shaking his head slowly.

"What's your deal, man?" Peter asked.

"My mother gave me that cookie," Ethan said slowly.

"Who's your mother?"

Ethan looked Peter in the eye, and said in a deadpan voice, "Nemesis."

"Well, good for you," Peter said, looking away. "Figures it would be a goddess. See you around, kid." Peter angled his arm upward, preparing to fire his webs and get out of there.

"What about me?" Ethan said, panicked.

Peter shrugged. "Someone should find you eventually. Just hope it's the police." Grinning under the mask at Ethan's stoned expression, Peter leapt against the wall, pushing off into open space. He loved the _thwip_ sound his web-shooters made as they discharged into the night.

 **OoO**

 **This chapter has been co-authored by me and BatgirlBeyond. As of this chapter, all future chapters will be co-authored by both of us.**


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